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patriarchy
'Good Genes,' Anti-Abortion Laws, Declining Birth Rates, and What They Have in Common
Promoting good genes and limiting access to birth control and abortion are inextricably tied by two threads: white supremacy and the patriarchy. And they have been for more than 150 years.
Oct 12, 2025
From American Eagle’s campaign with Sydney Sweeney to the Trump administration’s efforts to limit access to birth control to the US birth rate hitting an all-time low, there has been a lot of noise online this summer, and every time something takes center stage, people come out of the woodwork telling us to not get distracted. To stay focused.
And I get it. I do. It’s a lot.
But we can’t just overlook one headline in favor of another, because in America, promoting good genes and limiting access to birth control and abortion are inextricably tied by two threads: white supremacy and the patriarchy. And they have been for more than 150 years—ever since the first time abortion was criminalized in America in the late 1800s.
In the words of Leslie Reagan (author of When Abortion Was a Crime): “White male patriotism demanded that maternity be enforced among Protestant women.”
When he wrote of American westward expansion, he asked: “Shall [these regions] be filled by our own children or by those of aliens? This is a question our women must answer; upon their loins depends the future destiny of the nation.”
Back in 2022, when Dobbs v. Jackson’s Women’s Health rolled back the protections granted by Roe v. Wade, the justices claimed to have reached the majority ruling, in part, because abortion rights weren’t “deeply rooted in the country’s history and traditions.” But here’s the thing: America had a long-standing tradition of abortion before it became widely outlawed in the late 1800s. In fact, for much of American history, terminating a pregnancy during the first four months wasn’t even considered abortion. It was simply an attempt to “restore menses.”
Before the end of the 19th century, a regular menstrual flow was considered essential to a woman’s health. Herbalists, midwives, and physicians recommended childbearing people sip herbal emmenagogic teas (teas that stimulate menstrual flow) in the days leading up to and throughout the course of their periods to maintain regularity and to restore menstruation if it arrived late.
It was this tradition that politicians and some doctors of the era (specifically those who were a part of the newly-created American Medical Association) wanted to eliminate.
The AMA was founded in 1847, creating a professional group for college-educated doctors (all men at the time). They were faced with a problem: The medical profession was still establishing itself, and so AMA doctors weren’t well-respected in America, but midwives, one of their primary competitors in the field, were. One of the many reasons for this was that midwives were willing to provide abortion services, something AMA-recognized physicians were unwilling to do because they claimed it violated the Hippocratic Oath.
One particular physician, Horatio Robinson Storer, saw abortion as an opportunity to help accredited physicians gain respect: If they could turn abortion into a moral issue, they could destroy public respect for midwives—allowing AMA physicians to take over the field of gynecological health and establish themselves as both the moral and scientific authority on medicine.
With the AMA at his back, in 1857 Storer started a campaign to change the way America thought about abortion—sending letters to physicians and newspapers, publishing books, and eventually working with legislatures to criminalize the practice.
What else was happening in 1857? The lead up to the American Civil War, which we all know was fueled by white supremacy. Not only was much of America fighting for the right to enslave people, they also feared being outnumbered by the very people they were trying to enslave. And with the declining birth rates among white, Protestant women, it was a well-founded fear (and one that wasn’t only limited to the South, especially with the influx of immigrants in northern cities).
Storer used this fear to his advantage.
When he wrote of American westward expansion, he asked: “Shall [these regions] be filled by our own children or by those of aliens? This is a question our women must answer; upon their loins depends the future destiny of the nation.”
The argument was a powerful one—one that changed the way America viewed abortion for 100 years. How did they do it? By destroying the concept of quickening, thereby reclassifying the restoration of menses as abortion and criminalizing those who practiced it. They stated quickening was little more than a feeling, and a feeling wasn’t medicine. This in turn discredited childbearing people as the ones who knew their own bodies best.
The AMA’s efforts culminated in the Comstock Law in 1873, which made the public discussion of birth control and abortion illegal by banning it as obscenity, and by 1880, every state had laws restricting abortion. Early-term abortion, which had once been considered an essential part of women’s healthcare, was labeled evil (and criminal) and midwives were rebranded as abortionists. These views of abortion continued for 100 years until Roe v. Wade gave people with uteruses the right to an abortion, and it’s clear they’ve persisted in the decades since.
Now, to be clear, most doctors today recognize abortion as healthcare. This isn’t meant to demonize modern-day physicians. But as we look to today’s headlines when it comes to the health of childbearing people, it’s almost impossible not to draw parallels, and keep this reality in mind as we fight to regain the rights the Supreme Court has stripped us of.
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This New Dawn for Korean Democracy Must Center Feminist Peace
As the rising far-right threatens peace, stability, and democracy around the world, Lee Jae-myung and South Korea’s leadership must prioritize and support women’s leadership and peace building.
Jun 04, 2025
This week marks a new dawn for democracy in South Korea. South Koreans have successfully held a snap election, electing Lee Jae-myung as their new president.
The Democratic Party leader Lee Jae-myung represents a marked shift from former President Yoon Suk Yeol whose surprise martial law declaration last December beset the country with weeks of “insurrection insomnia.” Yoon’s actions upended politics in South Korea with multiple leaders cycled through office in the span of a few weeks. Yoon also fanned the flames of a far right surge in South Korea and exacerbated tensions with North Korea.
In contrast, Lee Jae-myung has pushed for a new approach to North Korea, calling for pragmatic diplomacy and a gradual shift toward peace. Lee’s election offers an opening not only for peace but also for restoring democracy and advancing women’s rights in the country.
As feminist peace activists working in international solidarity, we know that all Korean people deserve to reunite with their family members and live in lands free from landmines and pollution and violence from military bases.
While we celebrate this new dawn for South Korea’s democracy and successful election of a progressive president, feminists recognize that, for the first time in 18 years, none of South Korea’s presidential candidates in this snap election were women, and none—including Lee—placed gender equality at the forefront of their campaigns. Indeed, Lee largely avoided any explicit discussion of gender equality, despite the leadership of young women in ousting Yoon.
If Lee is really to mark a new start to South Korea’s democracy, he must uplift women’s leadership and peace building. No democracy can thrive under toxic patriarchy and militarism. Policies rooted in militarism often shift resources away from policy areas that are critical to the advancement of women and girls. Attacks on democracy and the expansion of militarism threaten women’s rights, and women are more likely to be exposed to gender-based violence during wartime.
That is why, in the week leading up to the snap election, and on the 10-year anniversary of Women Cross DMZ’s founding crossing, I brought a delegation of feminist delegates to march with hundreds of Korean and international women outside the largest overseas U.S. military base in Pyeongtaek, South Korea to call for an end to the 75-year-old Korean War.
Our international delegation included diasporic peace leaders, including Afghan American, Indigenous, Korean American, and South Asian feminists—a powerful act of solidarity recognizing that the ongoing Korean War is a global war. (The U.S.-led United Nations command in Korea is a multinational force with combat forces and contributions from over 20 countries worldwide.)
Our solidarity trek was more timely than ever—and showed how war, militarism, democracy, and women’s rights are deeply intertwined.
Many people don’t know that the Korean War never technically ended but was only halted by the signing of an armistice in 1953. This unresolved state of war has not only kept Korean families separated but has resulted in the buildup of troops and weaponry on both sides of the Demilitarized Zone that separates North and South Korea, ready to reengage in conflict at a moment’s notice. Militarism, war, and division of the peninsula have especially impacted women, who have been leading calls for peace.
The state of war has also shaped South Korean politics throughout history, threatening democracy. Politicians—often backed by the United States—have used the Korean War as justification to maintain power and squash dissent, labeling those who call for peace and democracy “communists” and threats to national security. In December, former President Yoon, who rose to power by courting men who are anti-feminist, declared martial law, accusing the Democratic Party of conducting “anti-state activities” and collaborating with “North Korean communists” to destroy the country. Later, it was revealed that Yoon attempted to bait North Korea into conflict as a pretext for his martial law declaration.
Yoon’s actions were exceptionally brazen, but he was also part of a long line of South Korean authoritarian militaristic leaders. Our international delegation bore witness to this legacy, visiting major sites of South Korean and U.S. militarism: the DMZ, the Civilian Control Zone, Pyeongtaek, Dongducheon, Jeju.
In each place, we learned about the deep scars stemming from decades of war and militarism—including the struggles of Daechuri farmers horrifically brutalized and displaced by state authorities during the expansion of U.S. military base Camp Humphreys in Pyeongtaek. We also met with Gangjeong villagers protesting the South Korean naval base destroying their ways of life, Dongducheon organizers preventing the destruction of “Monkey House,” and sex worker organizers in Yongjugol fighting for their livelihoods and homes.
While each struggle differed, what was striking was how at each place, people described that state authorities spent millions policing them, surveilling them, wiping out histories, and destroying their homes. They remarked that instead, government officials could have just as easily spent those resources and time on providing social services, healthcare, recognition of history—all the things that actually keep us all safe and secure.
As feminist peace activists working in international solidarity, we know that all Korean people deserve to reunite with their family members and live in lands free from landmines and pollution and violence from military bases.
Given the current attacks on democracy in the United States and across the globe, transnational acts of solidarity are more important than ever. The next generation of South Korean feminist activists say that political leaders must recognize and honor the diversity of the population—including across gender identity, sexual orientation, age, disability, and racial backgrounds. It is time to imagine a “new democracy”—“not going back to the democracy we used to have.”
Women play crucial roles in changing society from one rooted in militarism to one rooted in peace. Research shows that when women are involved in peace processes, outcomes are more likely to be reached and to last. As the rising far-right threatens peace, stability, and democracy around the world, Lee Jae-myung and South Korea’s leadership must prioritize and support women’s leadership in building sustainable peace.
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We Gave ‘Transvestigators’ an Olympic Stage—Here’s How We Take It Back
The attacks against Algerian boxer Imane Khelif show why cis women must join trans women in this fight against having our bodies and gender debated and defined.
Aug 20, 2024
As the 2024 Paris Olympics come to a close, it’s heartbreaking to see that instead of celebrating the unity these games are meant to inspire, we were forced to collectively watch the opposite—a deepening divide among us. The original values of Olympism were to “encourage effort,” “preserve human dignity,” and “develop harmony.” And it seems when presented with those opportunities, we failed on all three of those fronts as a society.
As a trans woman, I am deeply disturbed by the narrative that was allowed to surround Algerian boxer Imane Khelif, whose victory against Italian boxer Angela Carini in the women’s welterweight boxing tournament was overshadowed by baseless accusations and transphobic conspiracy theories. These attacks were given a national stage by conservative figures, who falsely claimed that Khelif is biologically male, feeding into the ugly rise of a conspiracy theory known as “transvestigations.”
These so-called “transvestigations” are a disturbing form of misogyny, and part of another category of transphobia known as transmisogyny, targeting women under the guise of protecting womanhood. Khelif is a cisgender woman, assigned female at birth, and identifies as a woman. Yet, her victory, that should have been internationally lauded, was met with a wave of online harassment and accusations.
When we allow fear and hatred to dictate who counts as a “real woman,” we undermine the very foundation of women’s rights.
This is the chilling reality of the world we live in: Anti-trans and transphobic narratives have seeped into the mainstream, reaching a global stage. Now, it’s not just trans women who are under attack by those with nothing better to do than police gender and spread disinformation, but cis women too—anyone whose womanhood doesn’t fit an impossible standard.
“Transvestigations” didn’t start with Khelif, and unfortunately, they won’t end with her. It’s a new label for an old problem—misogyny rebranded, now weaponized against both cis and trans women. It’s a way to attack women while pretending to defend them. It uses language that claims to protect women’s rights but only protects women who fit a certain mold. Many other Olympic athletes—especially women of color—have been subjected to having their gender analyzed because of their strength, abilities, and looks. And when birth certificates, health records, or hormonal testing aren’t enough to satiate this mob of “transvestigators,” they move the goalpost further, constantly redefining what it is to be a woman.
It concerns me to know that cis women are now being persecuted in the same way myself and my trans sisters have been since the beginning of time. As these persecutions intensify, the barometer and measure of “womanhood” will continue to be pushed and challenged. Are we going to start declaring that women with conditions like polycystic ovary syndrome, or women who undergo IVF, aren’t “real” women? Are we going to label women who choose not to have children as less of a woman? Are we going to question the gender of our mothers, sisters, and aunts who have undergone breast augmentation after cancer? Are we going to no longer consider our grandmothers who receive hormonal therapy during menopause to be women? Are we going to let these harmful, misogynistic, arbitrary definitions of womanhood continue to divide us? If you are a woman or care about women and girls, this should worry you as well.
Khelif won the gold, but at what cost? She defended herself in the ring but entered an even bigger battle having to defend her human dignity. She spoke out after her quarterfinal win, urging spectators to refrain from bullying athletes, highlighting the devastating impact such attacks have on mental health. She said, “It can destroy people, it can kill people’s thoughts, spirit, and mind. It can divide people. And because of that, I ask them to refrain from bullying.”
If this is the impact on a cis woman, imagine the daily mental toll on trans women who face this scrutiny not just in sports, but in every aspect of their lives. Transgender people are over four times more likely than cisgender people to experience violent victimization. Forty-three percent of transgender youth have been bullied on school property, compared with 18% of cisgender youth. And now, many human rights organizations are declaring an epidemic of violence against trans people in the United States because of the uptick in attacks, an explosion in violent and hateful rhetoric aimed at the LGBTQ+ community, and the onslaught of discriminatory legislation.
As a trans woman, I know all too well the pain of having my humanity debated, politicized, and threatened. But the harm doesn’t stop with trans women. When we allow these narratives to flourish, when we let public opinion dictate who is “woman enough,” we are all at risk. Consider the growing number of anti-trans bills in the U.S. that seek to police gender in ways that hurt everyone. In states like Idaho, Arizona, and Georgia, these laws are putting young girls at risk, subjecting them to invasive exams to “prove” their gender, such as genital exams, before they can compete in sports.
This is not protection—it’s abuse. It’s a violation of bodily autonomy, and it’s a betrayal of everything women have fought for. The sad truth is that these policies, framed as protecting women, do the exact opposite. They endanger all women and girls, creating an environment where no one is safe from scrutiny.
The reality is that transphobia and transmisogyny don’t just harm the trans community—they harm everyone. When we allow fear and hatred to dictate who counts as a “real woman,” we undermine the very foundation of women’s rights. We allow the patriarchy to pit us against each other. They are creating infighting against an imaginary enemy, saying trans women are the true threat to feminism, distracting us from uniting against the real forces that oppress us all.
Imane Khelif’s story is a powerful reminder of what’s at stake. But this is not just about her—it’s about all of us. It’s about the girls and women who will come after her, who will face the same scrutiny if we don’t stand up now and stand up together. Cis women must join us in this fight against having our bodies and gender debated and defined.
This fight isn’t just for trans women—it’s for all women. It’s for anyone who believes in the right to define our own identities, free from the fear of harassment, discrimination, and violence. I hope that out of this, we will see more allies, more voices speaking out against the dangerous rhetoric of “transvestigations.” I hope that cis women will join us on the frontlines and join us in declaring it is not up to the government or the public to define our womenness, or moreso, our humanness.
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